"But—Castell is a theorist, did you know it?" he ended by saying, winking one eye. "We are two opposites, and maybe because of this we have been friends from childhood. He has always been given to studying the foundation of things, and their reason, philosophy, æsthetics. I don't understand anything of all that, I have a temperament essentially practical, and if you will not think me boastful, I will venture to say that in Spain there is a greater lack of useful men than of philosophers. Does it not seem as if there is a plethora of theologians, orators, and poets? If we wish to take our place beside the other countries of Europe it is necessary to think about opening ways of communication, making harbors, pushing industries, exploiting mines. In my modest sphere, I have done all that I could for the progress of our country; and if I have not accomplished more," he added, laughing, "do not believe that it is for lack of will, but for want of the precious metal."
"And Castell is your partner in these enterprises?" I asked him.
"No; we are not associated except in the steamboat line. He is a man who is fretted by figures. He is rich and wishes to enjoy his fortune tranquilly. But although he does not mix much in business, when there is any lack of money he finds it for me without hesitation, because he has full confidence in me."
"It seems as if this taste for business is in the family. Your Aunt Clara also shares this temperament," I said, to satisfy the curiosity that had pricked me since the previous night.
"My Aunt Clara is a notable woman of great talent. But I believe, without speaking ill of her, that the soul of the house, who has made all the money, is her husband. Oh, my Uncle Diego looks out for number one. There is no abler nor more prudent merchant on all the eastern coast. Believe me, anything he lets go by isn't worth stooping to pick up."
"Surely, according to what I have been given to understand by himself, it is the señora who guides him in difficult matters, who really holds the tiller in the business."
"Yes, yes," said Martí, smiling and a little out of countenance, "I do not doubt that my Aunt Clara gives him some good counsel, but not of necessity. In Valencia he is considered a bit crafty. It is possible that there may be some truth in it. You know the Galicians——"
He coughed to hide his embarrassment, and to change the conversation. I had already taken notice that it was repugnant to him to find any fault. He found himself on terra firma only when he was praising people, and he did this with such ardor that he seemed to taste a peculiar pleasure in it. Rare and precious quality, that ever made him more worthy of esteem in my eyes!
When we had finished breakfast, I pretended that I had occupations, and left him to look after his own. I went out into the streets again, and I soon encountered Sabas in one of the nearest ones. He seemed to me even more dried up and black than last night. He saluted me with grave courtesy, and after turning and joining me, urged me to accompany him to his house, as it was necessary for him to change his clothes. I was surprised at this necessity, as I could not see that he was damp or untidy. Later I found out that it was his custom to change his garb three or four times every day, following the elegant rules of court life.
Meantime, as we wended our way to his house, not far from that of his brother-in-law, he informed me that he had a collection of canes and of pipes—a very notable collection. It appeared that it was one of the sights most worthy a visit of any in the city, and with an amiability that I appreciated highly, he offered to show it to me. He lived in a charming little house. His wife came to open the door for us, to whom he said laconically: